


The Wrath of Diggle

by Styfas



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, Gen, Mention of Commander Fitzjames, Mention of Dr. McDonald, Mention of Terror Lieutenants (as a group), Mentions of Sir John Franklin, Missing Scene - Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:34:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28040961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Styfas/pseuds/Styfas
Summary: A "missing scene" - sort of - in which Mr. Jopson is charged with delivering a message to Mr. Diggle, via Captain Crozier, regarding Sir John's parting words after the Officers' Dinner in "Go for Broke": "Tell your cook Yes to the cow's head, No to the capers he cooked it with.  For future visits."By the way, it turns out no one on Terror likes cow's head with capers, either - but no one will ever tell Diggle that.Terror Bingo:  Go for Broke
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9
Collections: The Terror Bingo





	The Wrath of Diggle

**Author's Note:**

> I got a Terror Bingo prompt of "Go for Broke." So, I watched the episode for the umpteenth time, came up with a bunch of ideas - and then this is the one I decided to write.
> 
> As always, I must acknowledge and thank [Drac](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drac), who introduced me to The Terror in the first place, who put up with my daily abuse of their Facebook messenger, help me with my silly Britglish questions, listen as I bounce my wacky ideas off of them, and support me by reading (not exactly beta reading, but "filtering" - if that makes sense) my supposed final versions of fics. 🧡 
> 
> Disclaimers: I do/don't know any of the real-life people in this fic. RIP to all. I do not own any of the characters as depicted in AMC The Terror; those belong to AMC, writers, producers, directors, actors, and anyone else who had anything to do with the series.
> 
> I am not making money from this.
> 
> This is fiction - and that's a fact.

**The Wrath of Diggle**

Thomas Jopson finishes tidying up the mess room after the officers’ dinner, thinking back on the bits of conversation he heard while he was refilling glasses. As Captain Crozier had feared, Commander Fitzjames had, once again, told his story about encountering the Chinese, complete with his usual scripted “single musket ball; size of a cherry” quote, for which Jopson has always been tempted to join in – but always has the presence of mind to know that he shouldn’t, and never will. He could also see that the captain did not take well to the suggestion that their “little summer strait,” as termed by Sir John, should be named for Sir James Ross. For all of the uncomfortable moments, it was yet another dinner that Captain Crozier had successfully endured, and Jopson intends to lift the captain’s spirits as best he can, considering.

His mess room duties complete, Jopson goes to the Great Cabin and knocks on the door. “Sir?”

“Come in.” 

Captain Crozier is seated at the table, in thought. Jopson begins with a smile. “You survived dinner, Sir.”

“Barely. You heard everything.” The captain rises. “Well, finally, it’s over – until the next time. And now that Sir John and Commander Fitzjames have finally left the ship, I have a request.”

“Sir?”

“I’d like you to deliver a message to Mr. Diggle, please. It seems Sir John has a culinary suggestion for him. His parting words to me today were, _‘Tell your cook Yes to the cow’s head, No to the capers he cooked it with. For future visits.’”_

“And… you want _me_ to tell him.”

The captain chuckles. “Yes. I suffered enough through dinner, and I don’t wish to compound my suffering by having this type of conversation with Mr. Diggle. You know how he can be.” 

“But Sir, wouldn’t the message be best delivered by you, who heard it directly?”

Crozier’s mouth crinkles upwards. “A good attempt, Jopson. But now that you’ve heard the message yourself, _verbatim_ , I’m trusting you to deliver it. The truth is, I don’t much care for how Mr. Diggle prepares cow’s head, either. But I don’t want him to see through me while I endeavor to explain Sir John’s preferences.”

“You’re not the only one, sir. I must admit that I don’t enjoy his method of preparation for that dish, either.”

The captain lets loose with a hearty laugh. “Nor do any of the lieutenants, nor Dr. McDonald. But will any of us tell him? No – because apparently none of us officers wish to incur The Wrath of Diggle. But perhaps you can persuade him to change his recipe for _all_ of us – and based on Sir John’s comment, hmm?”

“I don’t know that I’ll be able to-“

“And I know that you _will_. See to it, Jopson. No time like the present. Be your usual charming self – and be sure to smile.” 

Jopson stays riveted to the spot, unable to suppress a sigh of uncertainty. 

The captain shrugs. “You’re simply delivering a message. Remember, it’s from Sir John, and not directly from any of us.”

“Very well, Sir.” Jopson nods and sweeps his bangs back from his forehead. He leaves the Great Cabin and walks with slow, tentative steps through the deck until he finds Mr. Diggle near the galley, washing dishes.

“Excuse me? Mr. Diggle?”

“Ah, Mr. Jopson!” Diggle turns off the water and grabs a towel, which he uses first to wipe sweat from his brow, and then to dry his hands.

“Good evening. I’m here to deliver a message from Captain Crozier. Actually, it’s more a message from Sir John. Specifically, it’s a comment Sir John made to the captain, regarding today’s meal.”

“His compliments to the chef, is it? He liked Cow’s Head à la Diggle?”

“Sadly, I cannot confirm.”

The cook pulls a frown and tosses his towel down to the sink. “Oh?”

“I quote directly, through Captain Crozier, what Sir John said to him before leaving the ship. He said, ‘Tell your cook Yes to the cow’s head, No to the capers he cooked it with. For future visits.’” Jopson takes a few steps back and waits for the tirade to begin.

“Oh, really?” Diggle puts his hand on his hips and squares his shoulders.

“Please understand that I’m quoting only what _Sir John_ said.”

Diggle nods his head repeatedly, his jaw set firm. He blinks several times. “Well. By some strange coincidence, we are now out of cows’ heads.”

Jopson’s heart leaps in his chest. He can feel his smile widening. Thank God, no more cow’s head with capers for any of the officers, or for him - ever again! 

And in the next instant, Jopson’s heart sinks back down as he remembers… “But I heard you talking with the captain last week, and I thought I heard you say that you had four more remaining? Which, after today’s dinner, would now leave three?”

“You heard correctly. But as far as _Sir John_ is concerned, we are now out of cows' heads. I’ll not waste my best recipe on him again. I can’t help it if His Highness doesn’t have a sophisticated enough palate to appreciate my signature creation.” Diggle turns back, turns on the water, and resumes washing dishes.

“So, you _do_ have more cow’s heads,” Jopson says in an airy voice. Oh God, no… Three more times he and the officers will have to force that godawful dish down their throats. No amount of water, tea, grog, Alsopp’s, whiskey, gin, rum, or anything else, for that matter, could ever help to kill the taste or make it easier to swallow. Abstinence might be the better choice – and perhaps then, to avoid hunger pangs, sneak away, go to the stores and take a handful of ship’s biscuits back to his cabin on the sly, and eat there instead. But then, that wouldn’t be fair to the officers. Jopson considers next what Captain Crozier had suggested. If he’s successful, he’ll have saved the day, and will reap accolades from all of the officers on Terror. But… how to ask the question… 

“Forgive my asking, Mr. Diggle. But… might you consider altering your recipe?” He sees Diggle’s lips pressing into a straight line and his eyes narrowing, which prompts him to hastily add, “For Sir John, of course. He did say that he liked the cow’s head. The only thing he didn’t like was the capers.” 

Diggle shuts off the water, faces Jopson, and speaks with steel in his tone. “I will not be changing my recipe. I’ve been a cook for ten years, and I know what I’m doing! I’ve been preparing cow’s head with capers for years, and I’d never heard any complaints about it – until now. I’m going to keep preparing it exactly the same way as I always have. I know you all like it here on Terror.”

Jopson doesn't want to offend, but at the same time he doesn't want to exactly confirm the cook’s comment. “We certainly do appreciate your talents.” 

“Thank you.” 

It’s the first smile Jopson has seen from him since the conversation began. Good. He’ll take advantage of it by taking a new angle; one he's quite pleased to have instantaneously invented. “What if you were to send the remaining cows’ heads over to Erebus? Seeing as Sir John is the captain of this expedition, I’m certain all of us here on Terror would be perfectly willing to make that sacrifice to make him happy, since he so enjoys cow’s head and tongue. And, since – for whatever reason – he doesn’t seem to care for the capers, perhaps Mr. Wall might be able to come up with a recipe to satisfy-”

“ _Mr. Wall?_ That charlatan?" The pace of Diggle’s words quickens as he speaks, matching the steady reddening of his face and the flashing of his eyes. "I’ve heard he rarely prepares a pot of porridge for the lads without burning it. I’ve also heard that his bread is chewy and tough. And while I know that it’s the result of his over-kneading the dough, he either hasn’t figured that out for himself yet or he doesn’t care. And if his bread dough is any indication, then my guess is that he’s got a heavy hand with everything else he prepares. Further, I’ve heard tell that his idea of seasoning a dish is to add salt – and _only_ salt. There are other ways: pepper and spices – but he won’t use them. They say that a cook puts his personality into his cooking. Well, Mr. Wall has no subtlety or refinement, and neither does his cooking. I will not be sending cows’ heads over to the likes of him!”

Jopson recognizes a definite _No_ when he hears one. “I understand your position.”

“Besides, if his cooking was any good at all, then why do the officers from Erebus come over here so frequently for dinner? Because of _my_ cooking, that’s why!” 

“Quite possibly,” Jopson says, lacking any other reply.

“Look at it this way, Mr. Jopson,“ Diggle says, his voice finally losing steam and fury. “Less cow’s head for Sir John will mean more for all of you on Terror.” He smiles.

Jopson struggles to create a smile in return. “That certainly is one way to look at it…”

“Thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have dishes to wash,” Mr. Diggle says, turning away from Jopson and starting up the water again.

“Yes. Of course.” 

Jopson heads back to the great Cabin to report on his failure. He knocks at the door. Upon hearing Crozier’s invitation to enter, he walks in and slides the door closed behind him.

“I was unsuccessful. I’m afraid Mr. Diggle won’t be changing his recipe – and we’ll be having it for dinner three more times.”

Crozier groans. “Oh, God…”

“I’m sorry, Sir.”

“Well, I’m sure you gave it your best effort. Thank you for trying.” 

A chuckle escapes Jopson’s lips. “Now I know why none of the officers would want to talk to him.”

“A rite of passage, it is – and you’ve lived to tell the tale. So, here’s what you do now, Jopson: you go back to Mr. Diggle and tell him that we all love his recipe so much that we’d like to have it three days in a row, starting tomorrow. In so doing, we could end this cow’s-head-with-capers agony sooner. Better than being surprised three times when we least want it, hmm?”

“Me. You want _me_ to do it.”

“We’ll bring Neptune into the mess and give some to him. As for us, we’ll wash it down with plenty of Alsopp’s and whiskey.”

“So...you want me to face him again. Now.”

“Off you go, Jopson. Courage!”

Jopson sighs. “Yes, Sir.”

He dutifully leaves the cabin to risk experiencing again The Wrath of Diggle. Upon sliding the door closed, he hears Captain Crozier calling out, _“And ask him to add more salt to the recipe, too!”_

With eyes wide, Jopson shakes his head. No, that’s the one thing he definitely _won’t_ do.


End file.
